Temple of the Dark Moon

The bushes that I had hid and sought,
Slept under and cared for,
There were no scratches on my hands and feet,
I’d never expect to find thorns.

Something is wrong,
That much I hope is wrong,
Something is wrong,
I’d expect my hope to be that wrong.

The bushes that i took shelter in,
I decidd to to stay a little longer,
I trimmed the leaves,
A passing caterpillar exposed the hidden.

A bush with thorns are not much,
Evolution gave rise to defences no one can deny,
The great abundance it carries with it,
If I’m careful the thorns matter not.

Careful I’ve tried to be,
Not carefully enough i must have been,
With a turn it grazed my back,
Crimson red blood shining on the blade.

Ignore the caterpillar I had,
Reality now piercing me at the back,
One gave rise to a thousand,
Scards of red everywhere.

Destructive scatoma is,
Blinded me of reality I’m on,
The minute bloodless scars of the past,
Left alone as paper cuts.

Something is wrong,
something is definitely wrong,
my affection to my favourite bush now gone,
Destroy, burn it to the ground I would.

To destory is an option I do not have,
I have only grit my teeth,
To just close my eyes,
To just turn and walk away.

Something is wrong,
I know that now,
The unforgiving Divinity,
The stage is for you now.